


8 p.m.

by Traviosita9124



Series: Hour by Hour [6]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 01:25:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9359150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traviosita9124/pseuds/Traviosita9124
Summary: Fitz crouched low in the driver’s seat, fingers drumming on the wheel as he squinted toward Jemma’s front door. The street was dark, save for the few lamps that lit individual drives and walkways, and it only served to give the neighborhood an eerie feeling of anticipation. Or perhaps that was only Fitz’ nerves.





	

Fitz crouched low in the driver’s seat, fingers drumming on the wheel as he squinted toward Jemma’s front door. The street was dark, save for the few lamps that lit individual drives and walkways, and it only served to give the neighborhood an eerie feeling of anticipation. Or perhaps that was only Fitz’ nerves. 

 

They weren’t helped any by the abrupt flash of light that came when Jemma jerked open her door, pausing only to shut it behind her before streaking across her lawn toward his car. The anxiety that had been weighing on him as he waited vanished in an instant and Fitz felt lighter just for seeing her grin. Without realizing it, he mirrored her expression as he leaned over to unlock the passenger door, giving it a little push to make sure it opened for her. 

 

“Y’ look beautiful,” he told her as she climbed into the car. Jemma had worn a simple, deep purple dress that flattered her and left him feeling a little wanting, despite having ironed his best pair of slate dress pants and the sapphire button down Bobbi had sworn looked best on him. That feeling disappeared as soon as Jemma settled in though, and she gave him a slow once-over that left Fitz’ heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. 

 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she murmured, leaning in to give him a brief kiss. 

 

Quick as it was, Fitz felt it down to his toes and honestly would have been content to forget their dinner reservation entirely had it not been for the sudden barking of a dog. They jerked apart, wide-eyed as they collided with their respective car doors, only to dissolve into giggles. They laughed until tears pricked the corners of their eyes and their ribs ached, their breath coming out in little pants until it eventually evened out. 

 

The tension that had kept Fitz’ gut drawn tight dissipated and with one last, dreamy look at Jemma, he turned over the ignition and directed the car toward Main Street. 

 

~*~

 

The maitre d’ seemed surprised to find so young a couple standing before him, but after looking over their attire and finding nothing wanting, he sat them at a tucked away table for two. There was a single candle flickering on the table and the way it made Jemma look distracted Fitz far more than he’d like to admit. He did his best to hide it by ducking behind his menu, but judging from the small smile that curled Jemma’s lips, he’d been unsuccessful. Fitz wasn’t terribly surprised to find he didn’t mind in the least. 

 

That dazed feeling carried him through their shared bruschetta and entrees all the way to tiramisu, even as he and Jemma chatted away about everything from school to his part time job to their plans for graduation. Fitz wasn’t sure he could speak with any kind of authority on the subject, but he thought they might be on the best first date in history, even when he took his personal biases into  account. 

 

Stuffed to the gills but unwilling to end the night just yet, Fitz found himself lingering near the entrance of the restaurant, one hand linked loosely with Jemma’s while the other fiddled with his keys in his pocket. 

 

“Feel like takin’ a walk, Jem?”

 

The smile she gave him was enough to stop his heart, but she kicked it into overdrive when she drew his left arm over her shoulder and wrapped her arm around his waist. Leaning into him, Jemma nudged him down the sidewalk. “Lead on,” she encouraged, reaching up to twine her own left hand with his as they drifted along the quaint storefronts. 

 

They moved in silence, content to simply be with each other and easily moving together as they looking through the darkened shop windows. They came to an involuntary stop before a party supply store, drawn in by the bright display of  _ Congratulations! _ -smeared mylar balloons and banners for graduating seniors. 

 

“It’s odd, isn’t it,” Jemma murmured into his ear, “to think that everything is coming to an end?”

 

“Puttin’ it tha’ way seems a bit drastic,” Fitz replied, his stomach turning uneasily, “bu’ it is odd t’ think tha’ in five weeks I’ll never have t’ sit through mandatory chapel again.” Jemma nudged him in the ribs at that and he chuckled. “C’mon, y’ know it’s bloody awful, even if y’ are part o’ campus ministry.”

 

“Yes, well, there have to be  _ some  _ drawbacks to being the headmaster’s daughter. Can’t all be get-out-of-jail-free cards and lording it above everyone’s head, can it?”   
  


“No, no, I guess it can’t.” There was something almost defeated in Jemma’s tone that Fitz would have given anything to chase away, which was the only reason the next words even came out of his mouth. “But, there’s Stanford in the fall. Y’ willnae be the headmaster’s daughter there, a’ least.” 

 

He tried to smile in the hopes that it would cause Jemma to perk up, but it clearly fell flat. 

 

“Yeah. And a few thousand miles from here to boot.” The fact that Fitz would not be going with her went unspoken, although it pained them both all the same. 

 

“Look, Jemma, I know tha’-”

 

“Jemma!”

 

The teens jerked apart and twirled toward the street. They’d been so absorbed in their own conversation that they’d failed to notice the sedan pull alongside them, but it was impossible to ignore now. As was the thin-faced man leaning out the window to yell at his daughter. 

 

“Jemma Catherine Simmons, you were meant to be home tonight! Get in the car this instant!”

 

“Father, I-”

 

“You left the house without permission while your mother and I were out. We’re going home.  _ Now _ .”

 

Screwing up his courage, Fitz swallowed and took half a step toward the curb. “Look, Headmaster Simmons, I-”   
  


“I think you’ve done quite enough, Leopold,” the man sneered, looking at him the same way he would look at gum on one of his precious boat shoes. “Get in the car, Jemma.” The older man’s tone brokered no room for argument and Jemma silently disentangled herself from him and went to let herself into the sedan. Even though Fitz knew it was likely hopeless, the sight of tears forming on Jemma’s lashes spurred him into action. He had to say something,  _ anything _ , just to let her know-

 

“Jemma! Jemma I-!”

 

But his words were lost in a squeal of rubber as Jemma’s father accelerated away from the curb, leaving Fitz to kick futilely at a trash can in their wake. 


End file.
